


Three Things Brad Stole From Ray That Ray Will Never Get Back

by meeks00



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-01
Updated: 2010-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeks00/pseuds/meeks00
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="http://trolleys.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://trolleys.livejournal.com/"><b>trolleys</b></a>. From the <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_we_pimpin"><a href="http://we-pimpin.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://we-pimpin.livejournal.com/"><b>we_pimpin</b></a></span> <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/we_pimpin/9295.html">One, Two, Three Things Challenge</a>.<br/></p>
    </blockquote>





	Three Things Brad Stole From Ray That Ray Will Never Get Back

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://trolleys.livejournal.com/profile)[**trolleys**](http://trolleys.livejournal.com/). From the [](http://we-pimpin.livejournal.com/profile)[**we_pimpin**](http://we-pimpin.livejournal.com/) [One, Two, Three Things Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/we_pimpin/9295.html).  
> 

Brad writes lists on sticky notes and posts them on the refrigerator. Ray gives him the colored ones to liven the place up a bit — purple, green, orange, pink. The only color not in the pack is yellow, which pisses Brad off. The only color Brad won’t use is pink, which makes Ray sad.

There is the "Things to Buy from the Grocery Store, Not the Sex Store" list (written on green):  
\- _Cinnamon  
\- Margarine  
\- Apples (Note: Make me an apple pie, Ray.)_

Ray makes Brad come along to the store, and while Brad takes forever to recon the spices aisle for cinnamon, Ray picks up a four-stick pack of unsalted Land O’Lakes butter and leaves the Country Crock margarine in the chips aisle.

Later, when Brad holds up a stick of butter in question as he unpacks the groceries, Ray just grins. Brad says it’s a heart-attack waiting to happen. Ray says it’ll smoothen out the bony angles he always complains about. Brad sets down the stick of butter, and Ray can see the greasy fingerprint indents. He understands later that Brad doesn’t mind those angles — like perfect fits as hand-holds and grips to position someone the way he wants, to make Ray lose his breath and gasp and pant.

Ray’s chopped apples turn brown in a bowl in the kitchen — forgotten and wasted. But the butter is spread liberally and used exactly as it is meant to be in the bedroom — sprinkled with cinnamon and savored.

__

Another list is the "Things Ray Is Not Allowed to Make Fun of On Pain of No Fucking" list (written on orange):  
\- _Rings  
\- Dog lady  
\- Brad’s Yamaha R1_

Ray doesn’t like to admit it, but he really likes his ring — it’s not a wedding band because of fuckin’ DADT, and they’re not gay-ass liberals living in Connecticut. But when other women in the grocery story hit on Brad, Ray takes one of the man’s humongous hands and shoves the shiny white gold band in their faces. Brad usually shoves him away in return, but this time he got Chef Boyardee ravioli to make up for it even though he claims to hate the mess Ray makes of it. They heat them up and eat them straight from the can like they used to, and Brad just laughs when Ray shoots him a dirty smile.

When the lady with the puppies down the street says they have to wait another few weeks for the puppies to be weaned of their mother’s milk, Ray wants to kick her in the neck, not just make fun of her. But Brad seems to think ‘making fun’ encompasses a wide range of things. If she pushes back the deadline one more time, Ray will tell Brad that maybe he should have made a “People Not To Kill With Mad Recon Skills” list.

Ray does kind of like the bike, but he’s not allowed to drive it and always has to ride bitch. It’s on rainy days when even mid-day is dark and gray that he really minds. It’s when his bitching is less fun than frustrated and Brad goes for a ride, drives with the same speed, doesn’t — can’t — answer his phone because he’s losing himself for a moment in wind and pelting rain and solitariness. Ray waits, dials a phone that won’t be answered, sits there waiting for a call back from someone less likely to call than a hospital. But then Brad comes back, because he always does. Drenched and spent, he lets Ray rail about motorcycle accident statistics and never quite seems to follow through on punishment.

__

The last list is the "Things Ray Stole from Brad That He Needs to Give Back Immediately" list (written on purple):  
\- _The keys to the handcuffs  
\- ALL OF BRAD’S BRIEFS_

Ray will never give back the keys because the last time Brad used those fucking handcuffs, Ray had deep chafe marks on his wrists and his coworkers thought he was being abused by his sexy as fuck partner (not boyfriend). It’s as if they’re all ignorant of the fact that Ray was, is, and always would be a Recon Marine. He tells them all on a daily basis how many ways he can fuck people up — if Boss doesn’t fully appreciate his rendition of soothing elevator music for the office, if Intern doesn’t put three creams and a shot of whiskey in his coffee every morning, if Secretary won’t join him and partner for a threesome in his window office — but they don’t ever seem to take him seriously.

Then Ray sees Brad walk out of the shower looking for his briefs, which Ray hid in the ceiling panel because Brad can’t pack up to leave for another tour without them. But then Brad puts on his Iceman face, the pissed off one that says he’s going to fuck shit up, with water beaded on his shoulders and trickling down his chest, and Ray holds the handcuff keys up without further prompting.

And there is that one other thing Ray stole that Brad didn’t put on the list — because Brad doesn’t seem to mind that Ray took it. Ray knows Brad knows about it. It’s in the bottom of his side table drawer. The shirt never has time to gather dust because it is recycled for a new one every time Brad comes home and leaves again so it can retain what Ray jokes is the ass smell but is really just a nice Brad smell. In the morning, while Brad gets his last shit in before shipping off, Ray picks out a shirt for his side table drawer, but then he opens it and sees that one is already there for him. He sits on the bed beside Brad’s half-packed duffel and waits. He always waits. Always will.

__

When Brad gets ready to leave, he straightens his uniform as if it isn’t ironed, grasps his dog tags until they turn warm in his palm, checks and re-checks the contents of his military-issue duffel. His black briefs are sitting just beside the bag because Brad’s a sneaky motherfucker and asked for their location in the middle of fucking Ray into oblivion.

Now, Ray just watches Brad stuff the briefs in with his arms crossed over his chest and his sulk face on. He refuses to help.

Brad looks over his shoulder as he tightens the drawstring of the duffel. “Don’t miss me too much,” he says, his eyes crinkling up a bit even though his lips don’t smile.

“Fuck you. I’m going to go spend all of my free time with my piece on the side.”

Brad rolls his eyes and slings the duffel over his shoulder.

“What? I could totally have a piece on the side, and you’d never even know it!”

Brad heads to the door, but he pauses only to say, “Ray, I have no doubt that you’d in no uncertain terms let me know if you had a piece on the side. In detail. Sordid, disgusting, depraved acts would be described in every one of your love letters to me.”

Ray waits a moment before following him out of the room. “They’re not love letters, you fucktard. They’re updates on how awesome my life is without you,” he says loudly.

When he gets to the living area, he sees Brad is by the kitchen, bent over the countertop. He has a Sharpie in hand, and Ray sighs.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “Writing another list? _Things Ray is Not Allowed to Fuck While Brad Gets Blue Balls On Another Tour_?”

When Brad is done, he holds up what he was writing on. It is indeed another list scrawled in Brad’s clear handwriting. This one is written on a pink sticky note. Seeing it does something weird to Ray’s chest.

Brad sticks it to Ray’s forehead with quirked up lips. Then he ducks his head down to press his own forehead against Ray’s, presses their lips together, the paper crinkling where it crumples between the bridges of their noses.

Later, when Brad is gone, Ray sits naked on the couch in an empty home, plucks the pink sticky note from where it is still stuck to his forehead.

"What Brad Colbert Will Miss While He Is Away From Home"

Ray stares at it for a long moment before sticking it back onto his forehead and resting his head against the backboard of the couch.

He thinks then that Brad’s not the only one who can make lists. Ray could’ve made his own list too — "Things Brad Colbert Stole From Ray Person That Ray Doesn’t Want Back Ever."

But Ray figures those things go without saying.

 _fin_

  
In other news: will have a TRAVELSTRAVELS post up as soon as I fight my camera so it relinquishes my pictures. What have I missed with you, flist? ♥


End file.
